


hungry hearts

by phalangine



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Sort Of, curtis hoyle is a gift, frank's a disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 08:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Curtis has been looking out for Frank for a long time, but it's looking like his friend is ready to make his home with someone again. All Curtis has to do is make sure Frank doesn't try to talk himself out of it before it's even begun.





	hungry hearts

Frank isn't good at taking care of himself. 

As a medic, that was one of the first things Curtis noticed about him. Sure, Frank would get his wounds cleaned and stitched up, and when he was home or on base, he was meticulous about changing bandages and taking antibiotics. But that's aftercare. Taking care of yourself means preventing injuries more than cleaning up after you get them. Curtis’ rule of thumb for taking care is people shouldn't put themselves in risky situations when they don't have to. It's a painfully basic concept, but that doesn't stop dumbasses like Frank from failing to follow it.

The physical angle of taking care is obvious. Don't get stabbed. Don't get shot. Don't get captured. Frank’s competent at that part. He's a good fighter; he knows what he's doing and how to do it well. 

He gets into trouble when he comes up against somebody equally competent, and suddenly what makes him terrifying isn't the fact that you never see him coming- it's the fact that he doesn't stay down. He takes hit after hit, and he drags himself back up.

And that's where the mental part comes in.

Maybe some of it's innate, but over the years, Curtis has watched Frank hammer out every bit of his brain that might tell him to stop. So far as he's concerned, he's the one man standing between the wrath of hell and the people he cares about, and he's going to stand there and close the gates himself. He won't ask anyone to join him, not even when they would want to, and the longer he lets himself think that way, the harder it gets for him to remember that doesn't have to be the way things are.

Add to that the fact that Frank is an innately caring man- he's bad at showing it in a way that isn't terrifying, and he's spent years unsuccessfully trying to excise that part of himself, but he does care- and you've got yourself a recipe for disaster. Frank bonds hard and fast, and more often than is right, that's come back to hurt him. So he started to tune the world out. Make it all about him and what he has to do. If he narrows his world to that, if he pretends he's beholden to no one, he can do what he needs to do.

Curtis knows Frank isn't all there. Hasn't been for years. It was a simple coping mechanism at first- turn off his brain and fight until the fight was over, take himself out of his skull and just be a body. Get some distance between him and the blood. But somewhere along the line, it got twisted into something dangerous. Frank’s humanity is shut out more often than it isn't.

There's only one way they know for sure to cram him back into his skin, make him remember he's more than his mission. Frank doesn't like it, says he feels like he's using Curtis, and maybe he is. 

Watching from above as Frank arches off Curtis’ narrow bed, his eyes open wide as he stares up at Curtis, his hands gripping the sheets, Curtis doesn't feel used. There's recognition in Frank’s eyes. He’s breathing hard, sweat beading on his chest, and for the first time in far too long, he's there with Curtis. He raises a hand and lays it on Curtis’ shoulder, curls his fingers around the joint. 

The thing is, Frank and Curtis love each other. They knew that going into this. Frank loves harder and easier than he should, than any man should, and Curtis… Well, he isn't much better. They've always clicked, some part of them recognizing a kindred spirit in the other.

Maybe their kind of love isn't like what Frank found with Maria- they aren't getting hitched any day soon, and neither of them wishes otherwise- or what Frank felt for Billy- and there's a minefield, the half-repressed kind of love Frank had for him, a love Frank never voiced and Billy never would have been kind to if he’d known- but it's something. And it's good.

Curtis releases one of Frank’s hips to curl his hand around Frank’s dick, and the desperate noise Frank lets out makes heat coil in Curtis’ gut.

Left to his own devices, Frank will destroy himself.

So Curtis hounds him.  _ Come to the meetings, _ he says.  _ Let's get a beer, _ he says.  _ Spend the night on my couch, _ he says.  _ Go to work and learn your coworkers’ names and use them, _ he says.  _ Go for a walk and breathe, _ he says.  _ Call me at two a.m. and tell me about the nightmare you had, _ he says.

_ Let yourself be human, _ he says.

Sometimes Frank listens. Sometimes he doesn't. 

He's smart enough to know not to be coy when he needs this, at least. Curtis has never had to bring it up himself, which is a relief; it would feel too much like he was using Frank, like he didn't hope every time would be the last for Frank’s sake.

When Frank comes, he pushes his hips up sharply and throws his head back. Curtis strokes him through it, breaking the silence to murmur encouragement. He could wring a second orgasm from Frank, but he doesn't. Frank doesn’t need it, and Curtis has always made a point of not doing more than what Frank needs. Instead, he pulls out and quickly jerks himself off, biting his cheek to keep from making noise when he comes. 

As usual, Frank doesn't say anything. He just lies there, breathing hard, his eyes on the ceiling. 

From someone else, it would be shame. From Frank, it's just Frank being Frank. He's one of those weird men who doesn't reliably pass out after getting off. There's something going on in Frank’s head, something big, and he's going to be restless until he works through it.

Curtis doesn't ask what Frank’s thinking about. He goes to the bathroom instead, wets two washcloths, cleans himself off, then heads back to the bed.

Frank hasn't moved and doesn't react to Curtis cleaning him up beyond spreading his legs at the first press of the damp cloth to his skin. Curtis rolls his eyes as he tosses the cloths into the laundry basket.

He left his prosthetic leg on in case things with Frank got athletic, but now he's free to take it off. 

It hits the floor with a thump that makes a distant part of Curtis twitch guiltily. He's usually careful with it, but he's exhausted tonight.

Crawling up the bed, he nudges at Frank until his friend scoots over enough for Curtis to fit between him and the wall. Without being asked, Frank rearranges the pillow so Curt can rest his head on it. He's a thoughtful man when he isn't caught up in raining down punishment.

Minutes pass, and despite the exhaustion tugging at him, Curtis finds he can't quite nod off. It's Frank’s fault. Curtis can feel how hard Frank is thinking, and he won’t be able to relax until Frank’s brain shuts up.

Because he’s Frank, that means he won’t relax until he has an answer for that big question he’s wrestling with.

Giving up on sleep for the moment, Curtis sighs and asks, “All right. What's up?”

Frank grunts. 

“You know damn well that's not an answer.”

“Maybe it wasn't supposed to be.”

“Maybe I should push you to the floor.”

This time he gets a huff, and after a moment, Frank says, “I was thinking about Karen.”

Curtis hasn't met Karen Page yet, but he's pried enough about her out of Frank and the internet to have an idea of where this is going. “What about her?” he prompts when Frank doesn't elaborate on his own.

“Just… Man, I don't know.”

“Yes, you do,” Curtis argues. “Frank, you're the most self-aware man I know. Maybe it's confusing, but you know what you're thinking.”

Frank doesn't reply right away, but that's fine. It means he's actually trying to put his thoughts into something another human could understand, which means he isn't going to mouth off. Which is good for him, because Curtis wasn't joking about pushing him off the bed. 

“She's good,” Frank says eventually. “I should leave her alone, keep her safe from my shit.”

Curtis doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “But you want her?”

“That's not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“ _ She _ wants  _ me _ .” 

It's so predictable, Curtis briefly considers pushing Frank off the bed anyway. “Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, not bothering to hide his exasperation. At group, he makes a point of never expressing his frustration with the others. But this is Frank, and he’s tripping himself up because he's Frank. “You can't control what other people want. You didn't make Karen want you, and if she weren't comfortable with it, she wouldn't keep inviting you around.”

“If she gets hurt and it's my fault-”

“Stop worrying about crossing bridges that don't even exist yet- and might never.”

“Curt-”

“I'm serious.” Using the weak moonlight to navigate, Curtis takes hold of Frank’s chin and turns his head to the side. Frank doesn't resist, drops his eyes from the ceiling to meet Curtis’. “Listen to me, Frank. I know you're scared for her, okay, and I know that fear isn't unfounded. But that's not good enough, man. Fear is only a reminder to be cautious. It isn't a promise. It isn't even always right.”

Frank swallows, his gaze fixed on Curtis.

“Karen’s eyes are open,” Curtis continues. “She knows who you are and what you do. She doesn't have a problem telling you off. She even likes you, though I can't for the life of me figure out why.”

Here, Frank narrows his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I'm your friend,” Curtis replies mildly. “It's my job to tell it like it is. And the truth, Frank, is that you're a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, well, I don't see people lining up outside your door either,” Frank says petulantly.

“Just because you found someone who doesn't mind that you're the Punisher doesn't mean I'm gonna risk getting my own life caught up in this.”

Frank quirks a brow, mouth curling up in a smile. “You've been keeping secrets. How serious is it?”

“He hasn't asked me out yet, so not very.”

Thus Frank’s presence in Curtis’ bed. They broke this off when Frank started up with Maria. Curtis has no idea if she knew about them, and he has no plans to ask. It doesn't matter now, and if Frank didn't tell her, he’ll only beat himself up for it.

If there’s any kindness left in the world, Frank will find a way to make it work with Karen, and Curtis will be able to leave his friend in good hands.

Mentally shaking off that train of thought, Curtis refocuses on the present. Frank is still facing him, his brow furrowed unhappily.

“Don't you hunt him down and bully him,” Curtis says sharply.

Frank grunts ambiguously.

“I mean it,” Curtis says, letting go of Frank’s chin to pinch his nose. Frank tries to pull away in distaste, but Curtis only tightens his hold. “He's still getting comfortable being gay, asshole. I can wait.”

Frank’s expression softens. Curtis knew that would give him pause. Frank is a lot of things, most of them dangerous, but he's got enough decency left not to push someone in that precarious place.

Hopefully.

“You really like this guy, huh?” he asks after a moment, the serious question undercut by the way his voice sounds with Curtis’ fingers still pinching his nose. 

Releasing his hold, Curtis folds his arms across his chest. Frank leans back in, his expression neutral. 

After a long moment, Curtis admits, “I do.”

Frank’s face immediately opens in another smile. He lays a warm hand on Curtis’ arm and gives him a friendly squeeze. “Glad to hear it,” he says, his voice a happy rumble. “You've been on your own for too long. It's time someone wised up and made an honest man out of you.”

“You're jumping ahead there, man,” Curtis complains, but it's hard to be unhappy when Frank is grinning at him like that.

Whatever Frank’s other myriad flaws, begrudging his friends happiness isn’t one of them.

“Just make sure you tell me about the wedding soon enough for me to grow a beard.”

Curtis scoffs. “Who says you're invited?”

Frank protests, overly loud and comical, and Curtis feels himself smile as they go back and forth. It's been too long since he and Frank relaxed enough to joke around. Hell, Curtis had been worried that Frank might have lost that part of himself after the way things went down with Billy.

But here it is. Quieter than it used to be and a little rusty, sure, but if Frank can still tease him about the time they lost a bet and had to wax their legs, there's hope left.

Eventually they wind down, the friendly barbs turning into yawns.

“Time for bed,” Curtis announces when Frank interrupts his own scattered telling of a misadventure during Fleet Week that Curtis wishes they'd all forget. He doesn’t even know why Frank would bring it up; if anything, it’s proof Frank doesn’t belong anywhere near people in expensive clothes. “And, Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“About Karen-” Frank groans, so Curtis talks over him, “-you've never been a coward before. Don't start now.”

“I'll think about it,” Frank hedges, but it's good enough for Curtis.

Besides, he can always give Frank shit about it over coffee tomorrow. These were clean sheets this morning. Frank owes Curtis at least ten minutes of fussing for messing them up. _At_ _ least _ .


End file.
